Envoy Diego's POV

  The Portuguese were at a significant disadvantage with only 500 soldiers, split between 250 pikemen and 250 musketeers. However, Envoy Diego had a different pn. He understood that to gain trust and improve the Portuguese reputation, making a significant contribution was crucial. This siege presented a golden opportunity to showcase the superior prowess of the Portuguese, but the ck of soldiers was a pressing concern.

  On the top walls of Fort which stood 20 meters high from ground, soldiers are bustling around, setting up defenses, and readying themselves for the next wave of the assault.

  The atmosphere is tense, with the smell of burning wood, rotten smell of fallen rebels outside and footsteps of soldiers filled the air. Amidst of this turmoil Envoy Diego, with his small army takes position on the walls. He scans the fortifications, his keen eyes noting something amiss.

  'Why is there so much space? I could fit a full row of ballistaes here. Wait... were there any siege weapons pced before? I don't see any.. forget it.. not even cannons.' he pondered as he pulled his beard.

  He brought this to the attention of General Ratan Singh, who was patrolling to provide assistance and maintain coordination across all sections of the walls.

  "General Singh! A moment of your time."

  Ratan Singh rushed to him.

  "What is it, Envoy ? We're in the middle of a siege."

  Diego replied with caution, "I understand, but we're missing a critical element. The walls are thick enough for siege machines, yet I see none. Did you use any kind of throwers?"

  Ratan singh felt sceptical at first not able to understand why he is asking about something less significant but then suddenly an idea gnawed at him. He sighed as he understood the gist of it.

  "Yes, you are correct. We had catapults before, but they were removed to the workshops to create more space, as we are now using cannons through the murder holes. We believed the cannons to be more effective."

  Diego face-palmed himself as he expected too much from the primitives. It is given that there is no gunpowder for canons and relying only on arrows wont save their ass if they pulled out something unexpected like cannons. Time is of the essence and they need to hurry now.

  "Aren't the cannons useless now? They occupy valuable space in the murder holes where they are stationed and on the walls where they aren't. We need more punch, General. Please bring those catapults back urgently."

  Understanding the urgency, an urgent request was passed to the Gwalior artisans, who were busy making barricades down the wall and heating oil and water to provide defenses. Prince Rajendra Singh accepted the crucial task and, under his lead, the catapults were disassembled to be reassembled again on the walls.

  The Bengal delegation provided transport and security, their soldiers forming a protective ring around the workers. They kept a vigint eye on the surroundings, their weapons ready to fend off any potential risks or slip ups.

  Soldiers and artisans moved with hurried steps as they carried their given orders. The air was thick with the sounds of hammers striking metal, saws cutting through wood, and the shouts of commands and responses.

  "Move those parts carefully!"

  "Don't drop it, haven't you eaten anything?"

  "No one will take a break until it is done."

  Prince Rajendra Singh shouted, directing the artisans. "We need those catapults up there running as soon as possible. Keep the work going boys. Soldiers will protect you."

  Sweat glistened on the brows of the workers as they lifted heavy wooden beams and intricate metal components up the steep steps of the wall. The weight of the parts required several men to lift, their muscles straining with effort.

  Despite the urgency, they moved with their practiced efficiency, each man knowing his role and executing it with precision. Envoy Diego and his aids moved among the workers, offering advice and making adjustments.

  "If you tighten this rope here, it will increase the tension and improve the range," Diego expined, demonstrating with his hands.

  The artisans nodded, quickly implementing his suggestions. The catapults began to take shape, their formidable structures rising against the night sky. The sound of creaking wood and the cnking of metal parts being fitted together filled the air.

  "Ready the stones!" Prince Rajendra Singh ordered, his voice carrying over the din. "Prepare to fire on my command!.... shoot!"

  The catapults, resembling the size of onagers and standing at a height of 800 feet, came to life as they hurled stones outside the fort, achieving an effective range of 400 meters. Previously, their efficiency was around 300-350 meters, but the modifications allowed them to cover an additional 50 meters, marking a significant improvement.

  Diego watched with satisfaction as the catapults were finally reassembled and positioned on the walls with proper working conditions. The improvements he suggested seemed to be working, as the tension and range of the stone throwers were noticeably better.

  Sardar Ajay's POV

  Sardar Ajay Pal Tomar felt deeply conflicted by the current scenario, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts that kept popping with passage of time.

  'What a disgrace! A women in battlefield?'

  'We are doomed, None of us will survive, first canons and now this woman.'

  As a traditionalist, he found it unacceptable to have women on the battlefield. He believed in the popur local folklores that depicted women as weak and always reliable on men. Their presence in war could mean suffering and bring bad omens, and the current scenario somehow seemed to prove this now, there was no sight of the enemy after the first failed assault, which he interpreted as the calm before the storm.

  The reason of all this is the warrior dy standing just beside his small unit cd in armor. She was Vijay Nagar Princess Meenakshi with her Maratha soldiers. She was cd in a chainmail armor set, wielding swords in both hands.

  'Atleast some smart people are still here. She must be from north.'

  Ajay gnced back at Bundelkhand Princess Uma Devi, who remained on the safe side of Rewari's king Rao todar mal, surrounded by his royal guards.

  'Damn it, why train them in first pce?'

  'Why don't she marry and take care of family? God knows what wrong with southern people.'

  He couldn't help but wonder why there was such a stark difference in their roles. He knew Meenakshi hailed from the Southern Empire, but he considered fighting on the front lines to be foolish and nonsensical when she could have been safer elsewhere. Forming family bonds is what they should focus as fighting and dying in battle fields is men's job.

  'Oh god! I cant even say her to leave.'

  'Don't die woman. Show me what you got.'

  Ajay pitied his luck, feeling almost certain that his side of the wall was more likely to face fierce resistance.

  Prince Vishwa's POV

  Prince Vishwa, on the other hand, felt extremely restless.

  "Damn bastards! It's been too long. They better not be sleeping," he muttered under his breath.

  He felt tired and sleepy as he stood in the same position, doing nothing except showing off his presence to bolster his soldiers' morale.

  Accustomed to a life of privilege and command, he found himself in a world where his status held little sway. His father's authority had shielded him from such realities, but now, amidst the preparations for battle, he felt insignificant and out of pce.

  Standing for such a long time bored him. He looked down to see soldiers rushing about, changing pces and carrying supplies, artisans hammering and crafting.

  Watching the catapult assembly was still interesting, but he grew increasingly bored, especially since the enemy hadn't shown up.

  His envy rose as he gnced towards Meenakshi, standing resolute with two swords in hand farther along the wall. She exuded a strength and purpose that he longed to dispy, but his role confined him to a mere spectator, shooting arrows into the distance.

  He wanted to showcase his power as well, but he couldn't go against the alliance leadership.

  As Vishwa yawned, his gaze lingered on Uma Devi. She stood resolute on the safe side of the king, deep in conversation, likely strategizing.

  'It feels like a clown holding this stupid bow. Should I join?'

  He wondered if he should leave his post and join them rather than standing around like a nobody. After all, it was the soldiers' job and not befitting a true noble.

  'Wow! Nice bonkers! I wonder if she's single. Hold on... aren't they around the same age?'

  His eyes traced her curves. Uma Devi was undeniably beautiful, but was she betrothed? She appeared to be of a simir age to Meenakshi, who always seemed just out of reach.

  'Look at her figure!'

  'Perhaps grabbing that would make Meenakshi jealous. Stupid bitch, pying hard to get.'

  He contempted if focusing on Uma Devi would make Meenakshi jealous. The thought thrilled him, imagining holding Uma close, indulging in pyful antics to prove his worth. Maybe then she'd see him differently.

  Reality intruded abruptly, the bre of a horn shattering his fantasies. Enemies emerged from the forest's shadows, demanding his attention.

  'Finally, they've come... Why are they here?'

  He clenched in excitement as he took an arrow from his quiver and pced it in his bow, but his hand trembled when he saw what the rebels brought with them.

  'Scaling dders, shit! Damn it, even peasants can climb those.'

  The rge scaling dder machines, movable with wheels, were alternative siege towers used to breach walls with moats. He had seen plenty of them in his kingdom, often used by his generals. They could be used by militia as they didn't slide from the wall like normal dders.

  The gigantic dders shone brightly in the dim moonlight, shattering his confidence that the enemy couldn't reach him.

  Fear washed over Vishwa as he realized this was not a mere skirmish but a battle for vast scale where his life is also on stake. His bow slipped from his trembling hands, his bravado crumbling in the face of overwhelming odds.

  "No! No! No! This can't be happening."

  He colpsed, overwhelmed by the sudden confrontation with mortality, feeling trapped in a conflict not even of his kingdom.

  "Your Highness! Are you alright?"

  "Hold him up! Bring water!"

  He could hear his subordinates shaking him and asking about his well-being, the shouts of other leaders forming positions, and soldiers requesting stones and hot oil. But none of that mattered anymore, as he believed he couldn't defeat that vast force and was fated to die.

  Perhaps his eldest brother was right, that he was a frog of a small well and should have stayed there.

  Somehow, with the help of his subordinates, he managed to stand up with his trembling body and look over at Meenakshi to see her reaction.

  To his dismay, she stared straight back at him just like the other leaders, but there was a stark difference. She had a smirk pying on her lips that cut deeper than any bde, and disdain in her eyes, pointing out the difference in their levels.

  The realization that she saw him as insignificant insect, unworthy of her respect or attention, proved too much to bear.

  Dizzy with disillusionment, Vishwa fainted, his body betraying the weight of his shattered pride and impossible dreams.

  General Ratan Singh's POV

  As General Ratan Singh was deeply troubled amidst the turmoil, the thick logs of wood used as shields heightened his anxiety, realizing arrows alone wouldn't work this time. he thanked his lucky stars as cannons didn't show up, probably got malfunctioned but in war nothing is certain.

  Moreover, the presence of fully armored individuals and uniform movements among the militia signaled the involvement of a real army. The siege dders posed a significant challenge, as they couldn't be easily pushed off.

  Approaching Amber's King Tejpal Singh for advice, Ratan Singh found him surprisingly rexed and eager. Tejpal Singh casually reassured him, "Don't worry, General. I've been itching for some stretching. Let them come. If arrows fail, we'll greet them with spears."

  He deftly maneuvered his spear and raised it high, earning cheers from his troops who tapped their shields with their spears.

  Seeing Ratan Singh still concerned, Tejpal Singh offered a suggestion, "How about wrapping stones in oil-soaked clothes and throwing them with fire lit?"

  He smacked his lips. "It will be quite a spectacle! What do you say, General?"

  The general felt grateful for the advice but cautioned him, "Your Majesty, I appreciate your wisdom, but I still urge caution. You are a king of another nation. If anything happens to you, our kingdom's reputation will suffer."

  Tejpal Singh chuckled and replied, "My dear General, don't worry about me. I ugh in the face of danger. Let me know if you need anything."

  His remark lightened the mood, eliciting ughter from his fellow soldiers. He then turned to his troops and shouted, "Rajputs, why do we live?"

  The soldiers responded in unison, "For glory! For glory!"

  With knowing smiles, both leaders clenched their fists in salute and returned to their positions.

  Tejpal Singh kissed the tip of his spear as he gazed at the approaching enemies with a hint of madness in his eyes.